Tales of the Wardens
by JackOLantern1337
Summary: This is a series of stories, mostly one shots, about the Grey Wardens of Thedas and their family and friends, both before during and after the Blight. All these stories share a continuity. Feel free to check out my other work.
1. Return to Ferelden

This story takes place around the time of Act 3 in Dragon Age 2. If you just kept the Warden alive it's mentioned he should be back in Denerim

"You told me their wouldn't be a crowd", Daylen muttered to the King as they rode side by side through the streets of Denerum. "And you told me you would only be gone on a brief mission", Alistair smiled sardonically. The streets were packed with cheering crowds. The King wore his brother's armor, a massive, frankly ridiculous looking suit of gold painted plate. Ridiculous though it may have been, it had meaning to the people of Ferelden. A reminder of what they had triumphed over. Daylen wore the robes of a Warden, enhanced with a bit of armor to denote his role as an arcane warrior, and, as the Revered Mother had put it all those years ago, keep from looking "to mageie". He looked every inch the magnificent hero.

Rich and poor, old and young, men and elves, all lined the way to see the famous Hero of Ferelden. Most only knew him by that name, Alistair had written to him shortly after the Blight that dozens of newly born children had been named Warden, in apparent reference to Daylen. The whole thing made him vaguely queasy. _What was I supposed to do let darkspawn destroy everything?_ It wasn't like he even had a choice, it was join or be sent to the Aeonar, and the Darkspawn would have followed him even if he had deserted.

Ferelden had many heroes. One of the greatest was riding alongside him, doing his best to pretend to share the crowd's joy at Daylen's return. Alistair, Elissa, Rina, the Blight, all of that seemed like a lifetime ago. He had left the Wardens in all but name when he chose to go though the Eluvian with Morrigan. He'd figure Alistair wouldn't really miss him, and that the rest would understand.

"Events got ahead of me", he said meekly. "Six years seems like a rather long time for a mission", he replied, in his customary snark. "I hope Queen is doing fine", he awkwardly tried to change the topic. Alistair shot him a look that felt something close to pity. "Elissa's a lot better than when you last visited. Truth be told she's far more eager to see you again than I am.", their was a weariness to him. Everyone knew King Alistair would have preferred to have stayed in the Wardens, but Daylen suspected this weariness was about painful memories, crawling up from the ground like Genlocks. Daylen had a lot of those.

The King looked ahead. He looked very different than the young Warden scarcely older than Daylen. Makers breath he almost looked regal. "Lets save some conversation for when we get to the palace okay?", said Alistair. Daylen shrugged. "Fine by me." "Oh and one more thing, were still not even.", it almost seemed like a wave of tension had departed Alistair. "I never thought we were", Daylen replied sullenly.

Shoutout to the intro to Halo 2. In case you haven't already figured it out, this story will not be told in chronological order.


	2. Icons

They passed his statue, that dam overpriced thing. It was ridiculous looking monstrosity of a monument to some armored colossus who happened to share his name, and his face, with a sword raised above his head and a Dragon skull at his feat. The Chantry had strongly discouraged emphasizing the fact that the savior of Ferelden was a Mage. He chuckled grimly. Yet another part of his life had become intwined with the elves. Maybe in a few hundred years he'd be erased from all the history books like poor Shartan. He had already heard several conspiracy theories about how Garahel was really a human warrior dressed up as an elf in a plot by detached elites to advance the interests of the "knife eared menace." Why said elites would do something like that for the very group whose necks their boot rested upon, was never explained by these great tavern sages.

Daylen didn't want to be forgotten, not really, but he wanted people to remember the bloody truth. At the very least they could remember that he had not been the only Warden at the siege. Oh sure everyone knew about Alistair, Elissa, himself and Logain. But nobody remembered any of the others. Rina and Shara had given far more of themselves to the Wardens than ether of them. And they got no statues. Not that (city elf) would mind that. Her work required a great deal of discretion. And at least people who knew of her still thought of her as a hero, as opposed to his wife. Morrigan did not much care what people thought of her. But he did. And oh what the Chantry, let alone the Grey Wardens, would say if they found out about his sweet, odd little boy. Daylen took one last look at the statue's grim face and rode on to the palace.

There the returning heroes were greeted by Queen Elissa and a gaggle of Ferelden's finest Knights and Lords. Alistair smiled. Daylen was glad to see his friends happy. Whatever the world threw at them the King and Queen had each other. He thought of Morrigan. Maker he missed that woman. They both of course had denied it to each other, and would deny to anyone who asked them, how odd it felt not to have the other at their back. How he lay awake wondering what she was thinking.

Elissa looked a lot different from when he had last seen her, the most obvious (part) being that she wasn't bed ridden. In place of her plate armor she wore a flowing blue and white gown. It would be hard for most people to believe that this elegant refined Queen had leaped atop an Ogre in full armor and stabbed him to death, blood spraying from his chest. Or that she had fought through a tower crawling with demons and lived to tell the tale. But Daylen knew better. The composed demeanor. The rationality in the midst of the irrational. That sheer determination to complete the task. All that was still their.

The Royal Couple did not bother to hide how happy they were to be reunited, embracing upon the palace steps. The Chantry and some of the nobles may have found it beneath the dignity of the monarchy, but most of the populace was happy to see the young couple they had elevated in the wake of the Blight's carnage still possessed some of their youthful passion. It made them feel like they could face the grim challenges of life without loosing themselves in the grim reality of it all.

Her greeting to Daylen was more formal. She welcomed him back to his "homeland", thanked him for his valiant efforts against the Blight, the usual. All without mentioning his real name, though he could see her role her eyes as she used up all possible names, Warden, Hero of Ferleden, you, etc. His family and companions knew he was from Kirkwall, but the citizens of Ferelden did not. Truth be told he never really considered Kirkwall home ether. The Circle tower had been the closes he had had to a home, but that was lost to him now, he wondered if Elissa had ever gone back to her family castle. No, Daylen knew only one real home. And that distant realm belonged to no nation or King.

Once Daylen would have been overjoyed to receive so much praise. In fact he still remembered feeling elation at being called a hero after the battle against the dead at Redcliffe, even after all he had seen at Ostagar. But after everything he had seen, and some of the things he'd done, it all seemed meaningless. He didn't dislike praise. But at this point, unless it came from his special someone, it mostly felt like he was a small child being cooed at by an overly doting parent. Or at least that's how he imagined how it would feel like. He had almost no memory of his mother, and most of his comrades had lost their's.

Of his many achievements, the two he felt the most proud about were his service during the Blight, all of it, he tried not to dwell on any individual instance of killing, and raising Kieren into a somewhat well adjusted individual. This last feat being all the more impressive due to the "unique" circumstances of his conception and the difficult childhoods of both of his parents.

 _There,_ Daylen thought as they stepped over the threshold of the palace door, let them give me a statue for that! Of course if Kieren had a destiny as grand as he and Morrigan thought he did, than being his parents might really be all they would be remembered for, in much the same way nobody remembered Elderath or poor Brona for anything other than bringing the Bride of the Maker into this world. It was just like him to contemplate existential crap on the way to a banquet.

More than anything Daylen wanted to talk with Alistair and Elissa. To reminisce about old times. Some part of him still believed he could rekindle his old friendship with the King. He was sure they had questions for him too. Questions that couldn't be asked in front of just anybody.

Still, all three of them knew how to make small talk. And even the less sensitive parts of their adventures were more than enough to weave a fine tale. And of course their was the Champion of Kirkwall. Everyone wanted to know about this lost son of Ferelden, who had ascended to the heights of power in the Free Marches. Most probably just wanted to hear a good story, but the shrewed ones had other thoughts on the mind. Namely, if Hawke could overthrow the Knight Commander Merideth, and give Ferelden a piece of the Marcher pie. Daylen knew this because he had heard the exact same thoughts voiced at the Orlesian court. Especially after Prosper's death. Ultimately though, cooler heads prevailed.

He understood that as monarch's Alistair and Elissa had responsibilities beyond the Wardens, something Weisshaupt resented. They had to look out for their nation's intrests. Still, to see Alistair and Elissa join in the same old game of power politics was extremely disappointing. He didn't envy their situation, Daylen had seen what rulership was like, and his experience in Ameranthine gave him no desire to try it again. Better to rule over a Kingdom with one subject, and a co-monarch to share the task.


	3. The Carta's Dwarf Part 1

"Look I'm sorry I'll get your money to you next week", the slimy Tavern owner said with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice greatly underplayed the kind of danger he was in. It was the kind of tone one would use when one's wife caught one staying out late. When one was trying to bullshit out of admitting to cheating.

He pulled out his knife and flung the man to the wall. Men cheated on their wives and came out unscathed all the time, but no man cheated the Carta and survived. At least not if Urdam had anything to say about it. He lunged forward and held a knife to the fat bastard's throat.

"Now you listen here you miserable prick", he snarled the words, bearing his teeth and getting spittle all over the unfortunate business man. "You were to busy getting Drunk off your own wares and gambling your money away at your own table, to bother with such trivial things as making a profit.

"You used me", he wined pathetically. Urdam tensed and shoved the knife even closer to the man's throat. "No you sought us out. You knew House Gavorn had had enough of your excuses.

If you didn't pay your debt they'd kill you, or worse, arrange to make you castless. So you came to us. Offering anything anything, to get out of his debt.", these dam cave dwelling snobs valued their family honor more than life itself. Urdam could never understand that. But then again his family had no honor.

"You took advantage of me. You casteless scum have no sense of shame." If Thorbar Brasa had hoped to get the knife away from his throat than he had been successful. Urdam congratulated him with a slug right to the jaw. He grabbed him by the lapels, slammed him at the wall again and then threw him to the ground. His boot came down on Thorbar's midsection like the hammer of Endrin Aeducan himself, knocking the wind out of him like a cave collapse. He held his boot their, the other Dwarf being to hurt, or to terrified, to struggle.

"I don't see why I should have any shame", he said with the decorum that would do his once noble ancestors proud. "You came to me businessman to businessman and we made a deal. I talked to my friend Lord Gavorn about your problem. We had a few drinks and a few laughs, I offered to take his casteless daughter to the surface", he said the last scandalous thing like it was in the same league as drinks and laughs. "And he agreed to forgive your debt." "Come on just get it over with already we don't have all day!, Behrat grumbled. He did not have any sense of theatrical elegance.

"Come now my friend, this scoundrel, whatever else he might be is a dwarf, and all dwarves have the right to a trial. "I never heard of that right", said Behrat. "Just because a right is not granted does not mean it is not a right", Urdam enjoyed making others feel stupid. It gave him an air of superiority that a man of his lowly station was not allowed to have in Orzamar, but that he had seized none the less.

He moved his foot off the dwarf's chest. Thorbar was still to terrified to move. "So to recap, we got you out of your debt, gave a little girl and her mother a chance to prosper, and in exchange all we asked for were a few favors, nothing major, just a few favors. But you just had to take advantage of our generosity.", he was now pacing around the room like an advocate arguing a case.

"Everyone was happy, and all you had to do was do us a few favors", he stroked his unbearded chin. "Those favors were bleeding me white! This Nug Humper took half of what I made.", he looked at Behrat. Urdam kicked him, almost as reflex, that truth had hit to close to home. "Take some dam responsibility for yourself man! Without us you would have nothing. You'd be rotting in the Deep roads and not a soul would care!", Urdam wondered if that would be his fate when his time came. Somedays he thought he deserved it. _No,_ he cut the thought off. He was a businessman like any other, and it wasn't as if all those pious high and mighty Diamond Quarter Dwarves were clean ether.

"And with us you will share the same fate", Leske gave a deep hearty laugh. "The fucking irony of it all must be killing you.", he burst out laughing again, this time at his own wit. This expired in a fit of coughing. "Are you quite finished you fat imbecile. You'll kill yourself at this rate.", he said with an angered affection that can only be shared between old friends and married couples. With his wife it was mostly just anger these days. "I couldn't give a dam if any of you casteless idiots keeled over. Now get back to work", Behrat yelled, in his usual demanding way. "Yes sir", Urdam grumbled like a child being told to keep the noise down.

"Fools! Fools! Your all fools!", Thorbar shouted like a madman. "While your arguing with each other and prancing around like children, the guards will be here to free me", his eyes were wide and frightened, his pants stained in the front, Urdam felt a small hurt when he cut away the fool's last hope. "Their already here.",Berhat said with a cruel grin. The life went out of Thorbar, in his own eyes he might as well already be dead. "Their our boys, posted out front to make sure everybody minds their own business.", Leske said, hammering the point. Thorbar was to lost in delirium to care. That's when Urdam, with one swift stroke, took his head. The whole endeavor had lost it's fun.


	4. The Carta's Dwarf Part 2

The Dwarves exited though a secret entrance carved into the wall, that led them back to Dusttown. The guards would wait five minutes before entering to discover, to their assuredly great surprise, that the proprietor had been murdered. Urdam wondered if anyone would show up to the funeral.

When they were a safe distance from the scene of the crime, Beraht spoke. "You two did good work today.", he seemed much more cheerful that usual. "I appreciate doing business with you", that was a degree of courtesy almost unheard of from Beraht. "As do I", Urdam said formally, and with that he parted ways with the two of them.

"It's been a while since I was last here, Carta work has taken me far. This place still feels like home somehow. I guess it's the way for all of us casteless", he spat the last word. He hated it when other dwarves used their "superior" birth as an excuse to walk all over him.

Leske simply nodded with glum acknowledgment. "The world is the way it is, nothing we can do to change it.", he said with a shrug. "But at least you give me respect. Your probably the only one who does.", he said matter of factly. "Your a good man Leske", he put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He shrugged it off. "No I'm not", he practically giggled. He would have offered him some of his pay, but the dam Brand was too proud to take money from anyone.

They keep walking, though the dilapidated streets, past the beggars and broken shops. Their Carta affiliation, prominently advertised by the weapons they bore, signified that they were off limits for any potential thieves. "So now that your back in town what are you going to do with yourself, I mean before you have to run off on some other errand.", Leseke asked curiously. "I'm thinking I'll go see my girl. Adda and I haven't spoken in a while. I'm sure she'll miss me.", well technically Adda was just one of many girls he had. The Nobles said all dwarves had a duty to multiply and sustain the species. And Urdam took great pleasure in going above and beyond in his share of the task. Leseke cringed. "What?", Urdam asked in puzzlement. "You didn't hear?", he sounded surprised by this fact, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hear what? Is she okay", their relationship was hardly true love, but she was a kind girl and he didn't want to see her hurt. "She's more than fine. Some noble, a Dace I think, put a baby in her belly. Now she lives in the Daimond Quarter with the little lad and her patron's irate wife." He was smiling. Leske had a soft spot for babies and Nugs. Urdam swokled. "I suppose I'll have to send a letter of congratulations", she probably was illiterate. Plus he doubted if Lord Dace would be happy to see him. "And find something else to do in this miserable dustball. "Well good luck to you", said Leske, who ran off to spend time with his happy family. Urdam kicked the ground and cursed.

Their were no guards in Dusttown, the people their were seen as not worth defending. If you were the wrong type of person, walking these streets could be as dangerous as taking a stroll in the deep roads. The Carta ruled here, protecting those who payed their dues, sometimes from other syndicates, sometimes from themselves. Behrat's boys were not above destroying a shop or two to remind the others to appreciate their "protection."

Branded beggars lined the streets. It was hard enough to see Dwarves live in this kind of squalor, but children. He looked up towards the Diamond quarter. People called his kind criminals, but he failed to see how anyone who allowed this could deserve anything less than the axe. He gave them some coin and kept on moving.

Up ahead aways he saw a gaggle of lightly armed dwarves kicking viciously kicking a small bundle. It took only a few more steps for him to realize that small bundle was child. Furious he drew his blade. With a shout and a curse he charged the men. They turned around, allowing Urdam to recognize their marked faces, and comparing this armored man to their own ragged state, decided to flee. "That's right you cowards!", he spat.

The boy was trying his best not to cry. At this he was failing miserably. He looked to be around ten years old. He awkwardly tried to give the boy money but that only made it worse. It made him think of another ten year old boy, sad, all alone in the world, with neither of his parents their to look out for him. That made him want to get a drink.

Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy, who clutched him tight in return. He cursed his ancestors, "the brand", his life, his mother, and everything under the stone. And the tears flowed like a fountain. Finally, he stoped crying. "Thank you sir", he managed to mumble. "Don't mention it", he tried to do one of those warm fatherly smiles. Instead he felt he looked like an idiot, but the boy didn't seem to care.

Only now did the young dwarf bother to count the boon he had been given. His eyes widened in astonishment. "Sir this is more money than I've ever seen in my life", the astonishment seemed to turn to fear and a whiff of something else. "I can't walk around with this! They'll take it and cut my throat out! Take me home and I'll hide it. Please!", he pleaded.

Urdam remembered something very important. "I'll tell you what. I have some errands to run in this.." he glanced at the decrepit hovels that lined the beggar packed streets. "Fine town." The boy gave a bitter laugh that sounded so sad and cruel coming from a child his age. "You can tag along as my squire.", he staggered the last word, pausing mid sentence to observe the child's still glum expression. "That sounds wonderful", the boy gave a smile like broken glass.

They moved on, neither of them bothering to mention that nobody else had stopped to help the boy. Compassion, like coin, was a rare commodity in Dustown.

Some children were wise beyond their age. Others just grew up to fast. Urdam had been the former, and he could tell the boy was too. "What's your name", he said, somewhat embarrassed he had not bothered to ask earlier. After a pause of a few seconds he said "It's Deke, Deke Brosca". He was tall for his age, or for his species, and his hair was a dark brownish red. He gave the boy a pitiful look. "Not many brands have a last name.", he was genuinely interested in hearing this story. "Well I do. It's my father's. He left it for me.", he smiled at this private joke. "I'm uh sorry for you loss", Urdam had felt great when his father had died, but he knew his experience was not typical of most dwarves.

"Don't be. He didn't die, he left for the surface. Of course he couldn't be bothered to take me or mother or Rica with him.", the boy's eyes teared up again and he muttered a curse.

Urdam put his hand on the boy's back. "Not far now", he said gently, pointing to a small shop just a few yards in the distance. He glanced back at the crying child just long enough to see him drop something. They kept up their pace and reached the shop of Urdam's cousin Pidelor.

Urdam sat the boy down by the wall. "It's not fair. They gave me this mark I never asked for… and then they make mother work in the smoke vents and then..", he just blubbered.

"Urdam? Urdam is that you? What the devil are you doing here you old bastard", his cousin said in a deep jovial voice, clearly not understanding the situation. He stood up and embraced the man. "It's good to see you to cos. I wish I had time for small talk, but I don't. How many of the boys can you round up in a hurry?", he could hear Deke crying in the corner. "My assistant Bardrick that's it. Why what's going on.", his mustache twitched in alarm.

He turned towards the boy, who was wiping the tears from his eyes. "He'll tell us." Urdam grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back of the store. Pidelor had Bardrick man the store. They had been in these kinds of situations before. "Tell you what?", the boy said in visible alarm. Urdam set him down on a bench in the storage room.

"Who hired you and what sort of trap do they want you to lead me into.", the room, always quiet, felt as silent as the void Humans claimed the wicked went to in death. "What are you talking about", his voice was fast, eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Their expressions were firm. "The men who beat you were not castless, I could tell that the instant I saw their faces. One of them was an old fellow, old Brands have soft faded marks stretched across their faces. It matches their own state." "It's rather poetic if you think about it", his cousin interjected. Urdam could see Deke give a slight nod in almost unconscious agreement. "This man though, this man's brand was dark black. Like it had been made yesterday, painted yesterday. They say wisdom comes from the mouths of babes, so tell me boy, why would guards decide to make a temporary mark, have they suddenly developed a sense of compassion?", Urdam's tone was level. "No", the boy said with a low bitterness. "Were that it was otherwise.", Pidelor mused.

"Now it happens that the area we were in was controlled by the Red Pickaxes. They get their name from the Pickaxes the miner caste uses to mine for Lyrium. And you can figure out why they added the red bit. The Miners are a proud kind, for it was they who founded this city. Their organization doesn't employ dusters as anything other than tools to be discarded. Even being their thug is seen as too good for a brand.", he felt a pang of remorse as the boy began to clench his teeth. He held back tears of what, shame, rage, guilt? _No,_ Urdam chided himself. _You did not get to where you are by being a kind man. Get the truth out of him and you can save yourself. Save him as well._ "Now why would they need to conceal their involvement in beating up a brand on their own territory", he mockingly stroked his beard. "You said this matter was urgent!", snapped Pidelor. "It is, so please boy, while I would like to go on and on down this road of deduction please tell me what happened.", his tone was gentler, like one his sister would use when she caught him doing something wrong. "You know I have a mother, a sister, if they find out I ratted they'll.." "But they won't find out", Urdam interrupted. "Your masters may not have said why they chose beating up a kid as a way to lure me into a trap, but I know why. They know I would never do anything to hurt a child and hold those who do in contempt. You know I'm important enough to ether kill or kidnap, which means I have powerful forces at my disposal. Tell me where your family is, and I'll see to it they do not come to harm.", his disguise had fallen off. The man who had toyed with a wayward associate like a Nug in a Darkspawn nest, didn't have the guts to make a child cry.

Deke breathed a heavy sigh, almost of relief. "You were right. It was those coal fucking bastards who put me up to it. I didn't volunteer. I was out on the street picking pockets when they just grabbed me and explained that they had use for me, and if I didn't obey they'd kill my family. They said you were soft. You were supposed to take pity on me and I was supposed to lead you into an ambush. I don't know if they wanted you alive or dead, or if they even cared what happened to me afterwords. They offered no reward. They only said they was going to kill me if I didn't cooperate. My family too. I couldn't take that risk! They gave me this token to drop if I couldn't convince you to follow me. I think their headed right for us." he let out a sigh, like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. "Sir you really have been kinder to me than any man has been for me whole life. I am so sorry. If you want to take your money back I can..", he reached for the purse. "No need", Urdam waved it off.

"You also needn't be afraid of their vengeance. The Red Pickaxe rules these parts alright, but they only extract protection from the local businesses, not any old Dwarf, hence why I felt safe wandering around those parts. I don't know if you know this now boy, but were in Carta territory. This man here is my cousin Pidelor. He runs this fine establishment, he sells surface made weapons to get around the restrictions on polluting Dwarven Smith's blades. We have a tunnel in the back that leads to a safe house.", "Were very prepared like that", Pidelor cut in. "Speaking of safe house you best be getting underway. I'll prep our little surprise, just in case.", he gave a smile like the one he had given Thorbar. Pidelor protested but Urdam cut him off. He ran to obey.

"As for your family, they were probably bluffing. They just picked you off the street right? And your mother works in the vents right? The Miner caste supervises those things but the syndicate is mostly headed by the lower levels of the caste, the Lyrium addled looses who need to feel like their in charge. The great families stay out of it. Point being, they probably don't even know who you are, they probably don't even know your family name.", this seemed to somehow make the boy seem even worse. "I am such a fool", he said shaking his head. "They would have cut your throat on the spot had you disagreed with them. They probably still would have slit your throat even if you had succeeded.", he was about to say something when a commotion from the front of the shot caught his atention. Moments later, Bardrick threw open the door, jumped over the threshold, and slammed it shut. The two men quickly closed the locks, just in time. "Customers. They came looking for you. I stalled them. They got angry", he wheezed. "It's alright you did good. Deke get though the tunnel!", he yelled at the casteless boy. He turned towards his cousin's assistant. "You and I are going to wrap up their present for them. I hope they don't mind re-gifting.", Urdam's wife hated that. She had once had a man killed over it. The two repeated the old chant. A chant whose meaning must have been somewhat ironic, but was motivating as a speech by any Paragon. "For honor! For Glory! For House Cadash!"


	5. The Carta's Dwarf Part 3

Urdam held fast against the door while Bardrick raced over to the shelf to grab the bomb. The jolts at his back gave him the uncomfortable realization of how little wood separated himself from the axes of dozens of irate Miners. Bardirck had by now retreated the bomb and begun to prime it. Urdam saw Deke run over from a shadow obsurcred corner to help. "Dammit boy I thought I told you to get to the tunnel!", he hollered over at Deke. The boy payed him no heed and ran up next to Bardick. "It's okay I could use the help", his cousin's assistant yelled back.

Another slam against the door. This one moved his back a few inches from the wood. "Well then hurry it up we haven't got all day", he said agitated. Urdam had faced death many times and had always been left with the same overpowering thought, _I don't want to die._

Bardick and Deke busied themselves preparing the bomb. Bardrick only entrusting the boy with the most simple, and least explosive, tasks. Urdam supposed dying here would be for the best. Orzamar, the natural home for his people. _Not dying at all would be nice._ An axe came though the door mere inches from his side. Splinters flew. He flung himself away.

"Bardrick!", "Already finished.", he answered Urdam's question preemptively. A great hammer slammed into the door. The rest was quickly hacked away as the three dwarves scrambled for the tunnel. They scrambled down a hatch in the floor and into the tunnel, a path wide enough for two dwarves to walk side by side, and high enough for three to stand atop each other's shoulders. They ran as fast as their, by human standards, short legs would allow.

"How do we know when the bomb's gone off?", Deke asked between hurried breaths. A great crash. The Earth shook, Urdam steadied himself. "Does that answer your question?", Barrick asked dryly.

They spilled out of the tunnel to the safehouse, well technically it was a safe cave. It had been Urdam's idea to carve this place, a sanctuary deep within the stone. Every time he came down here he felt this energy, this connection to the Stone. Some surfacers hated it. Urdam Cadash treasured his roots. Pidelor was their, along with Leske, his son, and a crew of armored dwarves. They had heard what had happened and come to help. Leske explained that since the Red Pickaxes had broken the truce, Behrat had ordered his men to attack their holdings. Men had also been sent to find the rest of the Brosca family and bring them to a safe place, although Behrat chafed at doing anything for people as lowly as them.

The explosion had taken some of their best soldiers, leaving the Miners vulnerable. "So in a way you really helped us by leading them into a death trap. Good job", he said with a warm smile. "If you hadn't caught on to what I was doing I would have lead you to your death. I would have felt bad, but I would have done it. Doesn't that mean anything to you?", it almost seemed as if he wished to be punished. "We all do what we have to. Even those of us on the surface.", he thought of Thorbar. "Your from the surface?", he sounded star struck. "Indeed I am, I could take you their if you like?", surely anything was better than living as a casteless Dwarf in Orzamar. Davi pondered for a bit. Just a bit. "I can't. Mother won't go, Rica won't leave mother, and I can't leave ether of them.", he managed to keep stonefaced. It was now Urdam's turn to tear up a little.

"Aw don't cry sir, I'll be alright, relatively speaking of course", he reached out his hand to comfort the Carta kingpin. "Things aren't so bad here. Rica says I can become anything I want to be. Maybe a Paragon, like Gherlon the Blood Rissen. It may be unlikely, but being dragged into all this was very unlikely.", he sounded like he actually believed all this. Urdam thought it better not to crush the kid's dreams. Life in Dust Town would no doubt send him back to his former sorry state. "Maybe I could help you some more. I know you said I helped, but I nearly got you killed. My Mom may be a drunk, but she always told me that a Dwarf must always repay his favors, especially to Dwarves I've wronged.", Urdam's mother had said something similar. Only she said to make double sure to do this if the Dwarf was important. Also, not to let gratitude get in the way of an opportunity. His mother had a ruthless streak to rival even old Garell. "I will warn you once, and only once, the things I may ask of you will not be pleasant. They will not be glamorous, and their is a good chance they may kill you.", he half hoped Deke would see the light. "I'm yours to command", Deke kneeled.


	6. The Carta's Dwarf Part 4

They met deep in the hideout, deep within the stone. A maze of rocky tunnels connected the halls. Urdam had insisted that certain sections be spiced up, with tapestries from Orlais and statuettes of Dwarven Paragons. Behrat hadn't seen the point, but it gave the place a certain homely feel. Plus no other gang could claim to have a hideout as fashionable, a distinction Urdam treasured. It reminded him of a treehouse he had played in in his youth.

Two guardsmen swung open a door to one of the better made up chambers. By the fire stood Behrat, A girl, who bore the brand, who he didn't know, Behrat's kinsman Karshol, Leske and no it couldn't be.

"Stone's greeting brother, the rest of the organization sends it's regards.", it was Garth Cadash, his big brother. "Brother I'm surprised to see you this far from Starkhaven.", Garth was always a sedentary creature, difficult to coax out of his comfort zone. When their father had died, Garth had been the only one out of four children not to try to claim leadership.

"I was attending to some business in Jader when I heard you were going to be in Orzamar. I didn't feel like trusting…these people", he gestured his hand towards Behrat.

Garth had always mistrusted the Carta. It wasn't so much that they were devious, murderous and deceitful, everyone House Cadash worked with was in one way or another. Rather it was their ambition that got him on edge. They were clearly intent on taking over all of Dusttown, maybe all of Orzamar. And then what?, he had asked Urdam. Would they come to the surface and try to take over transportation and distribution? To Urdam this seemed overly alarmist. Their was more than enough business for both the Cadash family, and the Carta.

If Behrat was offended he gave no sign of it. Inside he was fuming, Urdam was sure, but he was pragmatic enough to know not to offend potential allies. Better to take out his rage on his casteless underlings than anyone important.

Karshol coughed and gestured towards the map of Orzamar that lay on the table. "We've hit most of their holdings in Dust Town, and managed to convince some of their associated traders to, rethink their business model.", the Cadash family were always ones for euphemisms, but few in the Carta showed similar tact. Karshol though was more refined than the rest, to Behrat's great chagrin.

Behrat spoke next. "We've had no luck hitting their core though. The Guards actually give a dam about what happens in the Miner Caste districts. And those bastards have the Axes in their blood. None of them will turn.", he leaned onto the table, as if looking at it he could force it to give up the rival syndicate's secret.

"Have they asked for peace?", asked Garth. "If they did we wouldn't give it to them. These Lyrium addled nug fuckers tried to kill Urdam.", he turned to Urdam. "Odd isn't it that I'm more pissed off about this than your own brother", he glowered suspiciously at Garth. "I trust Garth 100 percent}, said Garth. The last thing they needed was a fight to break out.

"Something isn't adding up", said Karshol. "They planed to strike us first. They prepared for this. And yet our boys ran them out of Dust Town. They must be planing something.", Behrat's second was always a cautious one.

"Their planing how to deal with getting their asses kicked in", it was the girl, she had long brown hair and a pretty face. Hardened by life in Dust Town. "They never bothered with street level connections. They just showed up beat the crap out of the few who had any money and didn't bother to do much else. They didn't bother to take care of their territory, their territory didn't bother to take care of them," her voice was firm, like that of a fighter, a leader. Now he saw why Behrat had put her at a level as high as this. "Pardon me mis, but I don't think I know your name," Urdam said with formal courtesy. "The name's Jarvia", she curtly, harshly, with a sliver of red on her cheek. "If you get to bring that up jumped moron into meetings", Behrat gestured towards Leske, "I should be allowed to add somebody actually competent.

"We can't let them disrespect us like this. They probably don't care one whiff that we ran them out of Dust Town. We need to do to them what they planed on doing to us. That'll teach everyone else not to cross the Carta", Kardol said with grim satisfaction.

"Their leadership is holed up in the mining caste districts, and as I already mentioned, it's a really tough fucking nut to crack.", Behrat said in a slow harsh tone.

Urdam had an idea. "Behrat you remember that bit of housekeeping we took care of yesterday?", he felt a little ember of excitement at the memory. In his younger days this sadism would have caused him to become melancholic and contemplate his own morality. Now he just didn't care. He did what made him feel good and what made his organization money. "Yeah", said Behrat. "What if some of their leadership also likes to take a proactive role in certain problems.", Urdam always felt good when he was the one who figured things out. It was like winning a game.

"You mean lure them out?", asked Jarvia. "Indeed I do?", said Urdam. "And what is this opportunity?", his cousin asked. "We'll have to wait for it.", Urdam said with a grim expression.

Just to be clear the Leske in this story is the father of the Leske in the Dwarf Comoner Origin.


	7. The Carta's Dwarf Part 5

The next few days were ones of tense boredom. Carta members huddled in their secret hideouts. Only venturing out in groups, usually with deadly purpose. They'd managed to run the Miners out of Dust Town, but had still not gotten an offer of peace, nor had any of their soldiers gotten a sight of any of the gang's leaders.

He hadn't seen Deke ether. Apparently his mother had not wanted him to be associated with criminals, and so they had left the protection of the Carta to stay with some relatives. Behrat had taken the initiative and sent some people to watch over the boy anyway, surprisingly he did not complain. Behrat was a cruel, vindictive, greedy dwarf, even when compared to the types Urdam worked with. But he had a soft spot for Urdam. Until recently he had thought he was the only person Behrat trusted. Jarvia had changed that. He was sure their was something going on their, it was hardly unusual for the heads of criminal families to take concubines, Behrat usually didn't even bother with even that meager formality. Bust she was different. Urdam doubted a son of a Depstalker like Berhat could actually feel love, but he defiantly felt something for her, maybe grudging respect?

Ether way he hoped this thing went well. Berhat may have been an evil bastard, but he was Urdam's evil bastard. And he appreciated the favor he was doing him by protecting Deke.

Urdam was playing cards with his cousins and Leske, Kardol burst in with the news. "We've drawn them out. Get your weapons! Those bastards won't know what hit them," the bloodlust burned into his eyes.

Kardol led them, Urdam, Leske, his cousins and their men, though the tunnels. They exited though Berhat's shop. While Orzamar slept he led them down a dark alley way. They turned onto a street in the seedier part of the city. The kind of place where the residents one assurance in life was "at least we don't live in Dust Town."

Kardol ordered a halt near a juncture of two streets. The dwarves scrambled to cover. Urdam could make out five figures wearing leather armor. Urdam recognized the man in the center, a broad shouldered fellow with a shaggy white beard, as Bodanus Borell, leader of the entire syndicate. He was known for his vindictiveness, spite, cruelty, and paranoia. Urdam knew Kardol was a skilled plotter, but drawing the reclusive Bodanus out of his lair was a feat even for him. He motioned to tell him this but Kardol put a finger in front of his hand, which was sign language for "shut the fuck up."

In front of them was a faint slim silhouette. A girl's silhouette. She was dragging some kind of sack. Something was squirming inside. _Oh by the Stone this can't be what I think it is._

She threw it down on the ground. "Is this the casteless filth who got my boy killed?", he growled. She put her hands on her hips. "See for yourself," said a voice, Jarvia's voice.

One of the men dragged the sack towards their side and out spilled the small figure of a dwarven boy.

Urdam made an obscene gesture at Kardol. "What the hell is this?", the low tone of his voice did not disguise Urdam's anger at this betrayal. "The only way we could get him into our clutches.", Kardol said matter of factly.

"Yeah that's the one", one of the armored dwarves said after examining Deke. Dodanus looked him in the eye. "Do you know what your betrayal cost me boy?", he growled. Deke was stoic, looking his accuser in the eye. His back balanced against the point of a spear. "You not only cost me dozens of good men, my part of Dust town, but also my son! My only boy!", he was sobbing. "I'm sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen.", Deke left it unsaid that none of it would have had he been left alone.  
"You hear that lads, the Duster's sorry! Should I ask for recompense? Compensation?", he

turned menacingly towards Deke. "What could you possibly have that could compensate me for what I've lost?", Deke said nothing. He knew the answer and their was nothing he could do to escape it. The best he could do was die with courage, though nobody would know or care.

"We have to end this now", Urdam whispered to Kardol, as he drew his blade. Kardol put his on Urdam's, lowering it. "Not yet. Another crew is coming in to surround them. When Jarvia gives the signal we strike."

"Speaking of compensation, where's my money?", Jarvia gestured with an outstretched hand. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something you casteless whore?", Dodanus sneered. "I'm sure it can wait", she smiled with a false sweetness. "Just give her the coin", the enemy leader sighed exasperatedly.

One of his minions stepped forward and handed a pouch of coins over to Jarvia. She put it on her belt. "Thank you", she extended her hand to shake. The Miner huffed, "I don't give honor to Dusters. I'll only touch you when you tumble with me for a copper. Until that day, goodnight sweetheart.", he smugly turned on his heels.

Jarvia reached for something at her waist. "NOW!", Cardol yelled. Jarvia flung a knife at the soldier's back, clearing him between the shoulder blades. Kardol, Leske, and the others charged, Urdam along with them, desperate to keep them from killing their prisoner. The remaining four however, could not be bothered with a mere casteless boy. An arrow struck another in the neck and Behrat, and his men, charged at them from the rear.

Deke scrambled away from his captor and slipped behind another soldier. With a single motion, one honed by years of petty pickpocketing, he snatched the Dwarf's knife from it's scabbard. By reflex the Dwarf clutched at the scabbard, his fingers scrambling for the blade like a drowning man clinging to debris. Deke slashed it wide across his leg and leaped away, half amzed, and half horrified at what he had done. The Dwarf's bearded face contorted with pain. He wailed as he fell tot eh ground. Urdam stumbled to a stop before him. In under a dozen seconds he drew his hand axe and slammed it into the dwarf's skull. It crunched against the bone like a boot on gravel. Blood poured from the wound.

Dodanus stood alone, surrounded by his enemies. "Any final words", Behrat said with a malicious smile. "May the stone forsake you as it has forsaken me", he sounded like a man twice his already ancient age. His posture was that of a beaten dog. The crossbow bolt that one of Behrat's men fired didn't kill him, it merely put him out of his misery.


	8. The Carta's Dwarf Part Six

A cold wind swept over the party as they crossed the Frostbacks. The snow was up to their waists. Though this was not highly unusual for Dwarves attempting the crossing during winter. "I thought you told us this path would get us home quicker!", Urdam shouted at his brother Garth, who was trudging along at the head of the party. "It is brother. Hold fast we are almost their!" Garth's face was unobservable behind his tattered grey cloak.

They made camp at a plateau overlooking a steep escarpment. The fire popped and spat at the sky as snowflakes drifted down and boiled into nothingness. Urdam held his hands close to the fire and tried to ignore the deep, cold, darkness that enveloped them. Being a dwarf meant he could see better than most, but the darkness still troubled him. It just felt, malevolent?

Was that the right word?

Garth seemed melancholy, his eyes trained on the ground, shoulders haunched. In fact all of the men seemed unusually grim. "Don't beat yourself up over how inconvenient this shortcut turned out to be. We all make mistakes.", he said, with all the cheer he could pry free from the cold. Which was not much. Garth gave a start. "Yes of course. Thank you", he said softly. As if something was the matter.

He was about to say something when he heard footsteps crunching through the snow. Garth and his men donned their armor and grabbed their weapons. Urdam drew his blade. "Who goes their?", he cried. The figures grew closer. By now he could see it was only a single figure, wearing a cloak. Just a few feet away she removed her hood. "Somebody who loved you." A woman. Strong, matronly, in her youth she had been the most beautiful of the surface dwarves. She had Brown hair and green steely eyes. She was his wife Farra.

"What are you doing here?", he asked, concern in his voice. "Surprised I'm here. Thought you'd get to have one more tryst with that whore Adda, or was it Neta, or Skya or one of the other hundred hussies you have from Orzamar to Kal Sharock!?" Farra seethed. She had never exactly been fine with Urdams adventures, but it pained him greatly to see her like this. If he was being honest with himself he probably would not have stopped had he knew, but he would have put more effort into being discreet. Nevertheless, in spite of himself, in spite of who he was, he felt a pang of guilt.

"Concubines are an ancient tradition amongst our people",she cut him off as he offered the same excuse he always did. "Fuck ancient tradition. If you believed ancient tradition you'd rather be dead than living on the surface. You always make excuses for yourself." She threw off the hood. Flakes of snow melted in her long chestnut colored hair. Her eyes were cold and sharp, like daggers.

"All the other bosses have girls on the side", he said defensively. The next thing he felt was the impact of Farra's fist on his jaw. He fell to the ground, yowling at the pain. The crunch of bone teeth and blood. He looked up at his assailant, she was sobbing. He turned towards his men, expecting to have to order them against injuring her, but he found them all restrained. His brother in particular had a concerted look on his face. _Maker has this happened so often that even my underlings know?_

"Fuck you! Fuck you Urdam Cadash! You remember that night by the waterfront? That night we fell in love. You promised you'd be true. You promised you wouldn't be like the others.

My mother was right. But I was a poor stupid girl from a smith family in love with a dashing rouge. Now look at me!", tears flowed down her cheeks like a frozen waterfall. She wiped them away. Furious at this, another betrayal. Urdam was truly at a loss for words. "I didn't know", he stammered weakly.

"If you had cared to find out I would have told you what your philandering was doing to me. But you didn't. You said you cared about your women? You honor your vows? Well what about the only one you ever swore an oath to? Still I did what was expected of me. I put on a brave face and ignored every indiscretion. Just like the wives of all the other criminals", she spat the last word.

Urdam didn't bother to add that he had given her responsibilities in the business, that she had willingly participated in actions that were…less that moral. If he had raised that shield, she would have countered that it was he who had corrupted her, and that she was merely embracing the monster she had turned him into. Bitterly, Urdam might have reminded her that she would not have batted an eye like him if he wasn't a "dashing rouge", and that a girl from house Ceyk would not recognize the horrible things one had to do to become a "dashing rouge." But alas these words, like so many other things, went unsaid.

"Thank the ancestors I had at least one friend to help me though the ordeal of loving you. One shoulder to cry on. All that glitters is not gold. He is ten times the Dwarf you'll ever be. Ten times the Cadash."

Urdam turned to his brother, to see on the dwarf's face, the look of one who had been walked in on while bathing. Ashamed, and utterly surprised. Yet their was something else. Relief.

"Am I just being paranoid, or is what I thinking happened under my nose for Stone knows how many years?", now he knew how she felt. All those excuses now had the aftertaste of bile in his mouth. He laughed in despair.

"It is and it has been", she said with a cold smile. "Farra please", his brother pleaded. "What's their to be afraid of my darling? We've done it. Their's nothing he can do to us." Urdam turned towards the guardsmen. "Seize them", he commanded flatly. "I'm sorry boss I can't do that", one of them replied, his voice stoic. He confirmed what Urdam already knew. He wondered how they had convinced his men to betray him. Probably they had said his friendship with the Carta was placing the organization in a subordinate position. The men would not have cared about his personal life.

"No honor among thieves am I right lads", he said with a false smile. "You certainly are no paragon of virtue", Farra snarked. "Enough!", his brother declared, his voice strong. That of a leader. "This man is still my brother! We've had our fun, but this dwarf has been tormented enough. Let us put him out of his misery." If only Urdam had spent more time with his brother. Then perhaps he could have seen the changes in the man. Changes that had charmed both his men and his wife.

He should have been furious. He should have been cursing them for their betrayal, cursed their names, or even pleaded for his life. But all Urdam Cadash felt was cold numbness. "Just promise me none of my children will suffer because of this, all of my children", he looked to Farra. She curled her lips in contempt. "They are my blood as well as yours. And they have done nothing wrong.", Garth attempted to measure him. "I thought I was that", Urdam said with a weary smile. The knives came out, fire burned against the snow. Soon to be defiled by blood.

Urdam closed his eyes and thought of better times.

Okay so a couple of things to clear up. One the Leske in this story is the father of the Leske in the Dwarf Commoner Origin. Behrat is also a much better person. Urdam rarely saw his bad side, and after Urdam's death, that bad side got even worse. And yes, Urdam is the father of the Inquisitor, though which of his many children that will be remains in question.


	9. The Proving

The crowd erupted in applause. "The winner is Everd!" the announcer thundered. Deke turned and nodded to them. The man said some praises for his opponent as servants dragged her corpse from the field. He bowed his head respectfully. She had fought well. He had not meant to kill her. He remembered that she had volunteered for this. In that way she was a lot like the people he had killed for Behrat. They had all chosen a dangerous life. Or at least that's what he told himself.

Doubtless anyone sentencing him for slaying a member of a higher caste, would disagree. He still had no idea of how the hell he was going to get out of this mess, and hopefully impress the Grey Warden in the process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the announcer. "Everd will advance to the final bout to determine who is the true champion of the ring against…". Deke got a glimpse of a drowsy, drunk looking man min an outfit worth more than he could make in a lifetime, shambling onto the field.  
"What, I'm out already", he shambled towards Deke with his arms raised, eyes positioned towards the crowd. Jeers erupted. His eyes widened in a look of fury. "Hey that's my armor!" He yelled with his slurred voice. It was Everd. _Oh shit_ Deke thought, his mind racing in panic.

"Oh shit I gotta get out of here", Leske said to himself as he ran for the exit.

"What the fuck is going on?!", Tiran shouted, incensed that such a sacred tradition would be disrupted by Drunken idiocy. "Shit this will be splendid brother", Bhelen rubbed his hands together in anticipatory glee. This would be one to tell his children about.

"I still can't believe I'm facing Evered. That overhyped Bug fondler couldn't tell the front end of an axe from a Genlock's tool", Ulric said as Gorim helped him into his armor. "I'll give him three minutes tops my Lord", Ulric grimaced. "What you think I've lost my touch?", he asked. "Drinking to much ale and tumbling with to many wenches will dull your reflexes my Lord", he bowed his head as if offering humble council. Ulric adjusted his glove. "First I drink a completely normal amount of ale. Secondly the women I sleep with are ladies not wenches. And it's called making love not tumbling. What are you five? Show some class. And third I'll have you know it's great for my reflexes. It helps me practice for…hand to hand combat." Okay maybe he wasn't at the top of his game. But Ulric Aieducan would be a surfacers Uncle before he admitted to such a thing.

"Yes my Lord", Gorim said in a deadpan tone. Aeducan donned his helm. He clapped his hands together and shook out his muscles. "Okay lets do this. Open the gate!" The gate did not open. A messenger ran up to Gorim and whispered in his ear. The Prince's second scowled. "Shit."

A man next to the announcer said something. Deke was sure the crowd was still jeering and muttering, but he heard not a word of it. He kept his eyes transfixed upon that man.

"Remove your helmet warrior and let all who watch see your face", he commanded. _Not good not good,_ Deke thought to himself.

"I will not my victories have earned me your respect." He called to the announcer. Their that was the sort of things heroes in chivalrous tales would say. With luck they would let him go, this mysterious hero would vanish, probably to the surface if Behrat found out about the extent of his fuck up, and maidens and matrons of all casts would dream of the handsome face behind that armor.

"Your skills are impressive but you are one man. Show yourself or else I call the guards to do it for you

 _Dammit._ Right then he realized their was but one way out. He prayed to the ancestor who had forsaken him that this would play out like a heroic tale. "Very well look and see who I am." He lifted his helm and flung it to the floor. Standing straight and tall for who he was.

The boos of the crowd and the shriek of "Casteless!" told him it would not be one of those tales.


	10. Life Flashing

The Guardsmen closed in. He was surrounded. No way out. _I guess this is it then._

He bitterly remembered what had gotten him into this mess. Urdam and that promise he had made. The rewards he had been promised. Well technically it had begun when those Miner Caste fucks had grabbed him, but it was Urdam's fault he got involved with Behrat. Urdam Cadash had promised him a nice life, a good job, and money, in exchange for the hell those pricks had put him though. But of course he had died, and Behrat had told him his reward was the wonderful "opportunity" to earn money in his service. He'd later heard the man had been killed in the Frostbacks. His family had descended into civl war. And Berhat had become even more of a prick.

At least that was what the Elder Leske had said during his last days. After he died of that heart rupture his son had gone on a drinking binge. Deke had seen him cry. After that the old man was never mentioned again by ether of them.

 _Cursed ancestors I hope Leske makes it out of this._

One of them tried to grab him. He flung his fist into the Warrior's bare pot marked face. He was about to die he knew it. No way they'd let him live after doing something like this. Most men when they died thought about their mother's. When he had come home and told her he'd joined Berhat's gang, she hadn't been angry, just sad. Her eyes had just died. She'd never exactly been sober, but after that the Drinking had somehow gotten worse.

And of course he hadn't been enough for Berhat. About a year after Berhat had accepted Deke into his service Rica had begun her "training." She tried to pass it off as a good thing, regaling her brother with tales of a world far beyond Dusttown, far beyond Orzamar. Songs, Poetry, knowledge, things that neither of them should have been allowed to even go near. But of course they all knew the real reason Berhrat was investing so much into her "education."

He felt a sharp tug at his arm. His face took a slug. Deke tasted blood in his mouth. His other arm was yanked back, he felt a crunch in his socket. The blows came on after another. The crowd cheered as they had cheered him.

Evil bastards. He spat the blood in the face of one of the guards. The man ran his hands through his brown bushy beard with disgust, then backhanded Deke with his armored gauntlet.

He tumbled to the ground. Deke tried to push himself off, but his hands wiggled impotently, they had been tied. He writhed in the corse sand, struggling futilely, cursing his captors and his horrible life.

A boot came into his eye line. The guard pulled it back and threw it into his face.

It all went black.


End file.
